Emperor Mage (8 page)

"It's
in trouble, you know—the Empire." The gnarled old hands were busy, tugging
and straightening. "Famine in the south, five years running— did they tell
you? Locusts—folk out of work—wells drying up. Its as if the gods have turned
their faces from the emperor."

"It—it's
not my place to say," Daine stammered.

"You
ought to look around a bit. Really look. Long as you're here. The priests don't
like the omens, you know. They whisper that a cold winds blowing from the
Divine Realms. Might be next time you visit Carthak, it won't be here. Hard to
argue with gods, when they're done being nice to mortals." Briskly she
patted the coverlet into place,

Daine
blinked at the woman. Her words sounded too much like what the badger had said.
And weren't slaves supposed to be quiet and timid? None of the others had
talked to her like this one did: all they'd said was "Yes, Nobility,"
"No, Nobility," and "Right away, Nobility"

"Do
you think the gods are vexed with Carthak?" she asked, digging her hands
into her pockets.

The
slave ran her duster over the writing desk. "Ask them to show you the
temples," she advised, apparently not hearing Daine's question. "The
shrines. They used to be the glory of the Empire.”
 
The g
narled old
hands were busy, tugging and straightening. "Famine in the south, five
years running— did they tell you? Locusts—folk out of work—wells drying up.
It's as if the gods have
turned their faces
from the emperor."

"It—it's not my place to say,"
Daine stammered.

"You ought
to look around a bit.
Really
look. Long as you're here. The priests
don't like the omens, you know. They whisper that a cold wind's blowing from
the Divine Realms. Might be next time you visit Carthak, it won't be here. Hard
to argue with gods, when they're done being nice to
mortals." Briskly she patted the coverlet into place.

Daine blinked at
the woman. Her words sounded too much like what the badger had said. And
weren't slaves supposed to be quiet and timid? None of the others had talked to
her like this one did: all they'd said was "Yes, Nobility," "No,
Nobility," and "Right away,
Nobility."

"Do
you
think the
gods are vexed with Carthak?" she asked, digging her hands into her
pockets.

The slave ran her duster over the
writing desk. "Ask them to show you the temples," she advised,
apparently not hearing Daine's question. "The shrines. They used to be the
glory of the Empire. Now they think mages and armies are imperial glory. They
think—the emperor thinks—he doesn't
need
the gods." Wickedly, she reached with the
duster
and flicked the end of Kittens nose as the dragon
peered out from under the chair.

Kitten sneezed, then squealed with outrage
as
her
scales turned angry red. Her voice rose as she hooted and chattered with fury.
Daine begged her to be quiet, but there was no silencing the dragon
this time. The girl knelt and clamped her hands on
her muzzle. "Stop that this instant!" she ordered. "Look
at Zek—you're hurting his poor ears, and
you're
hurting minel"

Kitten glanced at Zek. The marmoset sat
gravely on the back of the chair, paws over his ears.
Slowly
turning a sullen gray, the dragon whistled
what
sounded like an apology.

"She wants
discipline," remarked the old lady,
sounding breathless. "Her own folk
would never
allow her to speak out of turn."

Concentrating on Kitten and Zek, Daine
had taken her eyes off her visitor. When she turned to
ask the servant what she had meant, she
discovered
that the old woman had dragged the tiger-skin rug
from under the bed and was attempting to stand
with it bundled into her arms.

Daine's
reaction was automatic. "Here, grand
mother—I'll
take that," she said, holding out her
hands.
"Just tell me where it goes—"

The woman dumped the bundle into Daine's
grip, and white light flared. Kitten
shrieked as the skin began to writhe. The girl dropped it, horrified. Her head
swam, and she toppled over, landing on her hands and knees next to the fur.

As she
gasped for air, the skin rippled. The great forepaw, by her toes, flexed. Long,
razor claws shot out, then resheathed themselves. By her nose a hind paw
stretched, then braced itself on the floor. The rump, no longer flat on the
stone, wriggled. Slowly, as if a body filled the empty hide, the cat got to its
feet, hindquarters first, then forepaws. The tail lashed.

Daine
scooted away from it. "Grandmother, you'd best get out of here!" she
cried.

The
door opened. A slave peered in, seeing first Zek and Kitten by the chair, then
Daine. The door hid the rug from her view. The slave knelt and bowed her head,
putting her right fist on her left shoulder. "You called this unworthy
one, Nobility?"

"No,"
said Daine. "I mean, yes, I mean—"

The
slave touched the floor with her forehead. Daine lunged to her feet,
"Please don't do that," she pleaded, not sure if she spoke to the
slave or the tiger. "I don't—I can't—I'm not a Nobility, all right?"

"Forgive
this one's faults, Nobility. What do you need? This unworthy one is here to
serve."

She
took a breath and got herself in hand. "Please get up. And—where's the old
woman?"

"Old
woman, Nobility?" asked the slave. "There is no old woman here."

Baffled,
Daine looked around. The old servant was gone, feather duster and all.
"She was just here a moment ago—you must have passed her." She
grabbed the door, holding it so that the kneeling slave would have no glimpse
of the tiger behind it. "She was cleaning in here."

The
slave looked up. "The care of your room is this unworthy one's task,
Nobility," she said, clearly frightened. "It was done some time ago,
shortly after the Nobilities from the north went with the prince and Lady
Varice."

Daine
thought fast. The old slave must have fled in that moment when the Light
blazed. No doubt she'd been frightened out of her wits; Daine knew her own
knees were decidedly weak. She had to calm down, because now she was scaring
this poor girl as well. "It's all right," she said, attempting a
smile. "I—I must have been napping, and had a— a dream or something.
I—"

She
looked behind the door. The tiger skin lay on the marble tiles, all four paws
tucked underneath, tail curled around its chest. The head rested on the floor,
eyes closed. If she hadn't known better, she would have sworn the thing looked
smug— except, of course, that dead animal skins couldn't manage that kind of
expression.

"Would
you do me a favor?" She closed the

door so
that the slave could see the tiger skin. "This—rug. It's very—upsetting,
to have it here. Will you take it away? Far away?"

From
the look on her face as she rose, the slave was used to odd requests.
"Yes, Nobility." The rug offered her no more resistance than a
blanket might have done. With a last bow, she left.

Trembling,
Daine said, "Thank you," and started to close the door.

"Daine?"
Alanna was in the central room outside, dressed for the opening of the peace
negotiations. "You'd best hurry or we'll be late for the banquet,"

Daine
winced and shut the door. Between talking to the old slave, having the rug come
to life on her, and handling the young slave, she had forgotten she had to clean
up and change again. "I don't know how much more excitement I can
take," she told Zek and Kitten as she stripped off her tunic and shirt.
"To think the king thought I might get bored while I was here!"

The
opening banquet started at noon, a feast of the light, cool foods preferred in
warmer lands for daytime. From the talk around Daine, such meals were Varice
Kingsfords special pride. It was the kind of thing that had foreigners from all
over the Eastern and Southern lands singing the praises of the emperor's table.
The girl surveyed the bewildering variety of choices and let Zek help her
choose. The marmoset was an expert on plant foods, at least.

Varice
was everywhere, seeing to the comfort of the Tortallan delegation and the
foreign ambassadors to Carthak who had been invited to observe the talks on
behalf of their rulers. With so many lords to attend to, she didn't appear to
notice that Numair barely touched his food.

Daine
noticed, and felt sorry for her tall friend Varice had filled his plate
herself, heaping it with delicacies like eel pastry, elephant-ear soup, and
snake medallions in a black bean and wine sauce. It was the worst thing she
could have done. Numairs body did not always travel well, particularly not
after a sea or river voyage. Usually he spent several days in a new place
eating mild, simple foods—the only things he could keep down. He nodded and
gave polite thanks when she stopped to ask how he did, but Daine could see a
tinge of green around his lips.

Luckily
the dogs and cats who served as palace mouse and rat catchers were everywhere,
even here in the banquet hall. Daine silently asked two dogs for help. When a
paw on the mage's knee caused Numair to look down, he saw them at his feet,
willing to be fed. The look he gave Daine was filled with gratitude. She didn't
see the costly food leave his plate, but she didn't expect to: Numairs hobby
was sleight of hand. The dogs she heard clearly. They were delighted with their
feast.

At last
the emperor led them to the room where the talks would be held. Tables and
chairs had been placed in a loose square, and unshuttered windows allowed
breezes and garden scents to pass through. The Tortallans, the foreign
ambassadors, and the Carthaki ministers were given seats, their places marked
with nameplates of gold inlaid with silver. Jugs of water, juice, and herbal
teas were at all the tables. Carthaki scribes sat cross-legged against one
wall, ready to take notes, while the Tortallan scribes had their own table,
directly behind Duke Gareths seat. Those who would not take part, such as
Lindhall Reed and lesser nobles and officials, sat in chairs behind the
delegations. Daine sat at the end of her table, uncomfortable even there.
Kitten had a stool to perch on, beside the girl; Zek hid in his usual place
under Daine s hair.

Ozorne
rose to speak, dressed in a blindingly white robe and green shoulder wrap. His
hair, ungilded today, proved to be reddish brown, though it was still in many
fine braids, each tipped with a gold filigree bead. Black paint lined his amber
eyes back to his temples. He glittered with gems.

"We
bid you welcome, representatives of our eminent cousin, King Jonathan of
Tortall, and of his queen, Thayet the Peerless, and of our fellow monarchs and
neighbors." His voice filled the room. "This day has been too long in
coming. At last we are met in a spirit of mutual aid and support for our lands,
so long at odds. Villains conspired to bring us to the brink of war, but wisdom
and vigilance have kept us from stepping over. All our hearts desire only
peace.

"Without
our knowledge and consent, evil men contrived four years ago to steal arcane
learning secretly held for centuries. With this ill-gained knowledge, they
reversed what the writers of those spells had dedicated their lives to achieve,
the banning from our human, mortal existence those creatures loosely called
immortals, the semidivine beings who may live forever unless accident or force
brings their life spans to a halt.

"To
our sorrow, our person and our university were blamed for this dreadful misuse
of power. Our cousins of Tortall, sore beset by immortals and by those who prey
on a land open to attack, felt we were to blame, and who could contest it?
Loving freedom and commerce, we kept too little watch on our library, on our
shipwrights, on those who hired men and paid them in Carthaki gold. To our
shame and sorrow, our lack of awareness caused our Tortallan cousins to think
we condoned the behavior of pirates, bandits, and rogues. Let us now set the
matter straight. Let us strive together for peace between our peoples, and put
aside all past misunderstandings.

"May
the gods bless our endeavors, and may they foster the peace for which we all
long."